


Visit #167

by TurtleTotem



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Bittersweet, Erik is a Sweetheart, M/M, Massage, in his own weird way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-17 21:35:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16982223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurtleTotem/pseuds/TurtleTotem
Summary: One of Erik's visits to the school. On Tumblrhere.





	Visit #167

It had been a stressful week at the school. Every week was stressful in its own way, but this one deserved special recognition. In addition to the general pressure of midterm exams and the lousy weather that kept everyone bottled up indoors, they had one student blow out a load-bearing wall with his powers, another had a screaming breakdown in the main stairwell, and two sixteen-year-olds made an attempt to elope.

And now, on Friday night, just when Charles was having a brandy and trying to unwind the slightest bit before going to bed, Erik Lehnsherr appeared at his window.

For a moment he considered closing the curtains and going to bed. Instead, after a long pause and a deep swallow of his brandy, he went to the window and opened it a crack.

“I will let you in,” he said, “on the condition that you do nothing to make an already terrible week worse.”

Erik raised an eyebrow. “Shall I take a vow of silence?”

“It’s an idea.” Nonetheless, he rolled back from the window far enough for Erik to come in, without actually demanding the vow. He could always shut off Erik’s vocal centers if necessary.

“You do look very tense,” Erik said, combing his fingers through Charles’s hair as he set the helmet aside with the other hand.

“Nngh.” Charles tried not to let his eyes flutter closed at the contact. “My neck feels like an iron bar. My shoulders are in worse knots than the kindergarteners’ shoelaces.”

A slow smile spread across Erik’s face. “Go lie down.”

Charles slanted a suspicious eyebrow at him, but transferred onto the bed, propped on his pillows.

“No, all the way down, on your stomach. Let’s get these clothes off.”

“Erik.”

“I’m going to give you a massage.”

“Well… all right.”

Erik went to the nightstand and rummaged until he found a bottle of scented oil, one they’d found too slippery for other activities. It turned out to be perfect for this—for Erik sliding his hands up and down Charles’s back, kneading his shoulders and neck and arms and hips. Charles felt certain he had become a puddle and would run off the edges of the bed presently. Occasionally it hurt when Erik attacked a knot, but in a  _good_ way.

“Erik,” he murmured into the pillow, “how do you—I mean, I never knew you knew how to do this.”

He couldn’t see Erik’s cheeks color, but he could feel the emotion suffusing the room. “I’ve been… learning.”

 _For you_ , he didn’t say, but that, too, filled the room.  _I learned how to do this for you_.

The hot, bright, uncontainable thing in Charles’s chest was either pain or happiness, but he wasn’t sure there was a difference when it came to Erik. He knew Erik would leave in the morning, and there was no telling when he would be back.

He also knew he’d always open the window.


End file.
